[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]FearTerry McGarryOnascension day , Bridget was the last to struggle through the bentandscarred opening into the world. Her eyes could not resolve the blur of grayandbrown at first, and when she looked up she nearly fell, her eyes watering;thesky was not blue with a golden sun but flat and gray and so vast she felt itmustcrush her. She sat down and then lay flat, pressing into the floor--theground, she must remember to call it, the Irish soil--which was soft and made ofgrainsof earth and woven strands of growing things. She heard the shouts of theothers, some afraid to move away from the hatch, some running wildly about withMr. Fitzhugh ordering them to stop; but they all sounded as if muffled throughthewall hangings that decorated the nuclear-war survival capsule she and theothermembers of the textiles group had just emerged from, and she began tounderstandwhat distance was."Oh, God," her mother was crying, softly, repeatedly. She had fallentoher knees and drawn handfuls of the green growth to her damp, red face.Bridget moved closer to peer at the short-stemmed, delicate plants." Mam?""The clover, Bridget.It should only have three leaves, but four wasconsideredlucky, and Bridget, even after the blast and a century's time, it'sPage 1 stillhere...."Bridget grew uncomfortable with the unexpected emotion and turned hereyesto a row of black stumps surrounded by tufts of baby trees, recognizablethoughnone exactly fit the videos she had seen. The air was thick with odors ,sweetand acrid, and she opened her mouth to breathe as if she could unravel itscomponentswith her tongue.After her seven years in the caps below, the last seven wakes wereclearestin her mind. She clutched the leperchaun embroidery in herpocket--leprechaun, Mrs. Simmons the schoolteacher had corrected her, tellinghergently that they were not real--and remembered the day in class when theyhaddiscussed the coming ascension in real terms for the first time, because thecommunicationcap had announced that it was really going to happen. Inpreparationshe had rehearsed to herself the forbidden words for rain and sunandsky-- báisteach, grian , spéir --and counted in her mind the colors in the tinyrainbowthrown on the all by her brother David's bit of angled glass, so thatshewould recognize the big ones when she saw them."My father says we don't know if it isn't all water above and no flooratall anymore, that the heat melted the ice at the top of the world and floodedourislands," David had said."My father said that was a bomb the IRA could understand," JimmyHanlon had put in, not to be bested in father- quoting.The words had blurred into meaningless babble to Bridget, although shewastrained to memorize instead of using limited paper and disks; when Mrs.Simmons wasn't looking, she had slipped out a book of fairy stories and let thestuffyworkroom fade away.The next thing she had known, David was yanking the book from herPage 2 hands. "Lesson's over and Jesus will you come out of that dreamworld of yours.""Leave her," Glenn Fitzhugh had said softly. "She's just a wee wane,andyou're a bully, Dai."Bridget had followed the altercation absently, her eyes still on theyellowpage. She appreciated Glenn's kindness and had been sorry when David hithim, because Glenn couldn't fight back without hurting. David had cursed her,whichstung because it meant that Father did it. He had said she was unwanted,shewas the third child, Mother broke the rules, Mother was a Catholic and theywerebad and stupid but nobody wanted any more trouble so they pretended thatGreat-great-grandfather hadn't smuggled Great-great-grandmother down here,takingthe Compact in bad faith, and Father pretended he wasn't sorry becauseeveryonehad to marry according to genetics and lots of times it didn't work outandno one else complained, and he worked extra hard as if it could make up fortheextra mouth to feed, and the one good thing about ascension was being rid ofThem...."You're half one if what you say is true," Glenn had said with bovine,implacablelogic from the pile of cloth into which David had pushed him. Davidhadhad a tantrum then and Mrs. Simmons had come in and scolded them for notbeingat tea and Bridget had squeezed her leprechaun tightly and looked up fromthesewing benches and fiber recyclers to the smooth gray walls and lightingtubesabove, above, where there wouldn't be any fighting anymore.***Page 3 "It's not that they're bad and we're good, Bridget," Mother hadwhisperedlater, fastening the hangings over the alcove opening and switching onthewhite-noise generator. Bridget associated the fuzzy hiss with the rows itwasturned up loud to drown out--rows about her. "It's just that we'redifferent; we're the ones they were trying to keep out when the capsules weremade, and although most of these people are good people, and our friends, therearesome who still resent us even after all this time. Hate dies hard, love."She had smoothed Bridget's hair back and braided it, deftly, gently. "Now say aHail Mary for me.""I'd rather say a poem. I read it in a book about the fairies. 'Up theairymountain, down the rushy glen, we daren't go a-hunting, for fear oflittle--'""You and the fairies.You're as bad as my mother was. Still, it's ourtradition, and if we don't preserve it no one will.""We're the last, aren't we, Mam ?" Bridget had said quietly, the poemforgotten."Ah, now, Bridget, I don't know that. We're the last in this cap,anyway.""And David and Anne?Glenn said...""Glenn's a good lad but he doesn't know everything. No, I was youngwhenDavid and Anne were born, I let the Compact have them. I was afraid they'ddoto me what they did to your grandmother when they found out she was teachingmethe old ways. You're our last chance, Bridget. That's why I had you andthat'swhy you must remember the words and prayers.""I'm afraid, Mam ."Her mother had made a clucking sound. "What can they do, withPage 4 ascensionso soon? The whole cap knows about us anyway, and there's bad feelingaboutwhat was done to your grandmother." She had paused, and swallowed."Do you think...above..." Bridget had wanted to ask about the fairies,buther mother had misunderstood her."No oneknows, mo chroí . But I'll tell you what I think. Our peoplewereleft up there to die by those with the money and the industry to build thecaps. But our people are survivors, Bridget, and I believe they're still there.I believe they took back the land that was theirs when all the Orangemen hidunderit, and that they--""You'd best lower your voice before the whole cap hears and lynchesyouafter all." Father's voice had preceded him through the heavy cloth over thealcovedoor. Bridget had glanced at her mother's tight face and scurried pasthimto the outer chamber, where David and Anne were breathing softly in theirdreams. The thirdsleep tape of a thunderstorm had looped just audibly betweentheircots. Bridget had crawled in next to Anne and thought how learning thatwaterdidn't always come from synthtanks but fell from above in little dropsthatmade the sound on the tape was not quite the same as learning that MotherandFather hated each other. But she had learned them at the same time, and theywereboth just things to know. It was all right. She knew about leprechauns,too.Bridget remembered how long the next six wakes had seemed to stretchbeforeher. And now, miraculously, here they were....Then she saw the leprechaun. At first she thought it was one of theotherchildren who had wandered off, but it was an odd shape and didn't walkproperly. It seemed to sense her stare and, with a wild look, disappeared.Page 5[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]